Two old men write poetry, short stories and other things

#3 Mars

I wrote this writing prompt a while ago. It’s by no means up to the standards of the other creative writers but I had a little idea and wanted to get it down. It’s very much a fresh perspective on a great prompt.

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Below is the transcript recorded between the two navigation pilots of the Crimson Shuttle III. It is the last recordings we have that began the fall of the Mars civilisation.

“Range 250 metres. Closing in…”

“Todd?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Engage thrusters, mark 3. Let’s make this an easy landing.”

CPU: Fuel Capacity – 28%

“Landing site not yet in view, sir.

“What? Bring up the co-ordinates.”

“Co-ordinates on display.”

“531 – 8008? That can’t be right.”

“That’s what’s on the log, sir.”

“Increasing thrusters, mark 4. We can’t use those. For all we know we’re hundreds of miles from the base. We’ve got one tank of fuel. Increasing thrusters, mark 6.”

“That’s what’s written down.”

“It’s bloody wrong! We’re running out of fuel.”

CPU: Fuel Capacity – 23%

“Just land, it has to be right. Billy triple checked them.”

“You got Billy to prepare these? You know that kid can’t be trusted. Billy is a punk. Find me the real co-ordinates!”

CPU: Fuel Capacity – 15%

“That’s all I have, sir.”

“Don’t you bloody understand the importance of this ship? We’re carrying the embryos. We’re carrying the life. We are the ignition. The fate of the human race in is our hands. Don’t give me that shit – find me those fucking coordinates!”